The Choices That Make History
by CheckYourVitals
Summary: It should have been so simple really- for someone who has nothing to loose. Kill him. Or let the rest of the world suffer. But with Hermione already hanging dangerously close to the edge of insanity- will she manage to overcome the darkness... or succumb to it? The line between what's right and what's wrong has never seemed so blurred. Time-travel!fic Dark!fic. Eventual TR/HG.
1. Chapter 1

**The Choices That Make History**

**Disclaimer: **Thought I should make things clear, just in case anyone gets confused and thinks that I _actually _own Harry Potter because as much as I have often wished I do, I don't... This story is purely for entertainment alone and no, I don't make any money off it and neither do I own anything in the Harry Potter series. Clear? Hope so.

**Summary: **_Hermione never thought that the consequence to running all those years ago would lead to this. Back in time to 1994 Hermione has lost everything she once held dear and it's all thanks to a certain dark-haired boy to match his equally dark heart. This leaves once final choice in Hermione's mind. Kill him. Or let the rest of the world suffer. It should have been so simple really- for someone who has nothing to lose. But with Hermione already hanging dangerously close to the edge __of insanity__\- will she manage to overcome the darkness... or succumb to it? The line between what's right and what's wrong has never seemed so blurred. Time-travel!fic Dark!fic. Eventual TR/HG. _

**A/N: **So I thought I'd try a Tomione fan fiction... for now, this is just an idea and I'm simply going to see how it's received before I decide to put a ton of time into it. This will be a fairly dark story... Tom Riddle will not completely change his ways and he certainly won't become some kind of fluffy romance sap who loves Hermione from only a few chapters in. It will be slow-paced and as such, will be a slow romance so if you want a pure, quick romance between Hermione and Tom Riddle then you won't find it here. As you will notice, romance is not the only genre for this story.

As with Tom not becoming all 'good' and 'fluffy', Hermione will also not become 'evil' and enjoy torturing innocent people all of a sudden, but she will become considerably darker as the story progresses. This is not solely a 'Tom changes Hermione' or a 'Hermione changes Tom' story, they will both make considerable differences on the other although as this _is _a _darkish_ story, Hermione will be the one to change most but that is from both her experiences and personality as well as Tom Riddle's influence.

If you feel any parts are unrealistic please let me know, I won't be offended as long as you tell me in a polite manner, as I would rather know and change it than having the story seem far-fetched and unbelievable. Hermione will seem out of character but the war has changed her- she's got no one left and she's also become rather violent though not with magic... you'll see.

So, after this rather long author's note, enjoy the story xox

* * *

**_**Test my reality  
Check if there's a weak spot  
Clingin' to insanity  
In hopes the world will ease up**_**

**_~Icon For Hire- Make A Move_**

**Chapter one:**

It was funny. Hermione decided as she stared at the deep cut on her skin. How a single choice could change everything. How, when you made that choice, you _never _even could have imagined the consequences. How just one choice could change your life forever, destroy the life you once had and even change the course of _history. _

She just wasn't sure, as she watched a single drop of crimson splatter on to the ground, staining the surface with red that would remain for the years to come, dimming slightly only with time, if it was for better or for worse.

And so, she looked back, back to before everything changed, back to where everything ended and everything new began and... back to when she made her choice.

0~*~0

_It was over. Over. After everything they had done, everything they had fought for, it was over. _Or at least, that's what she thought when she saw her best friend fall to the ground. Green eyes that once held so much hope, so much determination and so much kindness were now empty, void. Eyes that she would once look into with complete faith and would look back at her in undiminished trust now stared right through her, not seeing her. She wanted to stand up, she wanted to run to him and hold his head in her lap whilst she cried but more than anything, she wanted to _fight. _Fight for who he had been, fight for a war they had already lost and maybe, never had a chance at winning, because Harry James Potter was dead.

And as she stared at his lifeless corpse and felt a scream building in her throat she knew, _knew _that she should go down fighting, together, like they promised. But instead, she did none of those things, no- instead she did something she would always, _always _regret doing... instead she ran.

And as she ducked and dove around spells and falling pieces of the once majestic school alike- as she finally managed to escape the devastation and horror of what they had become, Hermione knew- she had made her choice...and there was no going back from it.

0~*~0

A young woman sat crouched down on her knees, head bowed and eyes staring distantly at the muddy ground with her thoughts a thousand miles away. No one was there to see her, this was her secret place, a place she made for remembrance of all those who had died fighting just like she _should have._ But she hadn't, she had made her choice and now she was suffering for it. Sometimes she wished she could die, go down fighting for what she believed in but in the end, when it _truly _came down to it she was too much of a coward. _Some Gryffindor she was._ She inwardly scoffed before sobering almost immediately.

She placed her hand to her chest, eyes misting slightly yet tears refusing to fall. She had to be strong, for them. For today marked the day of a whole year since the battle of Hogwarts, a year since they had lost, a year since Harry and Ron and countless others had died.

It wasn't fair. That people who only ever did something out of the good of their heart, who did it because it was the _right _thing to do and because everyone else was too scared, were the ones who suffered, the ones who lost and the ones who died and yet the cowardly ones, the ones who made the _wrong _choices got to lead, got to win and got to survive. No, Hermione thought as she glanced up at the dark sky and a single tear trickled down her face for the last time, it wasn't fair at all.

0~*~0

A couple months later in the blackened ruins of Hogwarts another choice was made by one specific witch. The kind of choice that would change history and yet, would never be known, never be recognised by anyone other than the person making it. The kind of choice that changed everyone's life forever... but they would never, _ever _know.

Said witch knew exactly what she planning to do, knew exactly what the consequence was going to be and yet, she was still going to do it. For everyone. Not just for the muggles, or muggle-borns, half bloods or even purebloods but for every living creature on this Earth.

She was going back in time, back to where she would find the source of all this and kill him. Because she had to, because no one else could because there was no one else left. The consequence? As soon as she killed him the world she knew would disappear, it would be like it never even existed and so, neither would she. But it also gave room for a new world to start, to grow and expand and not go down in flames like hers had. She was prepared to do this, prepared to sacrifice this world and her life because, in all honesty, there was nothing left of it to be saved anymore.

The day that she had chosen to run had started a series of events, and though she would always regret in her heart her decision to abandon everyone and survive, she also knew that it was _supposed _to happen, that if she hadn't made that choice then the world would continue to burn and cripple and die and so, as she gazed around her surroundings for the last time, her slim fingers deftly turning the once shinning device now caked in dirt and rust in her hand she realised, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much it killed her _every day..._She wouldn't change her decision if she could.

And finally, _finally, _she accepted her choice. And for the first time in over a year of regret, pain, should haves and what ifs- she felt the first thread of freedom again. Although maybe, _maybe, _if Hermione had known what the consequences of her actions would _truly _be... She would never have even gone near, let alone touched a time turner

0~*~0

The world around her blurred, disappearing in a split second and instead filling her vision with fragments, shattered pieces of the world over the years, time rushed by her just in the wrong direction, moving backwards instead of forwards and consuming her in it's pure expanse. If she wasn't mad before she felt almost certain she would be when-if- she got out of this. A sick sense of amusement filled her at the thought of someone in the 1940s finding her bloodied corpse and failing before she had even started.

Her plan? Find Tom Riddle and kill him. She would have the element of surprise and having nothing to loose on her side. It wouldn't matter if she did it in an abandoned classroom or in a crowded hallway because soon after she would be _gone. _She would cease to exist so what would it matter?

As far as plans went it was fairly simple... She should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.

She felt the brief sensation of falling and then a sharp pain that surprisingly seemed to clear her thoughts for a brusque moment before everything slipped from her mind, and sound, sight, smell, touch- _everything_ disappeared and she was left alone in the silent darkness.

0~*~0

As the clock struck the sign of a new day, a figure groaned and rolled over onto her back. It took a moment for the pain in her head to diminish and when it finally did, she opened her brown eyes, eyes that instantly assessed the situation.

As far as rooms went, this one was fairly plain. She said fairly, she meant _completely. _Nothing but a cold stone floor and walls with not a single piece of furnisher in sight, not even a window greeted her sight and she cautiously stood up, preparing for anything that might come.

No spells zoomed her way and no one jumped out at her and after a few minutes of standing in complete silent, eyes and ears attuned to the environment, she realised nothing was coming. She allowed herself to relax- slightly.

A sharp pain in her chest caused her to pause and the glanced down. The time turner had shattered, whether from impact or from the sheer amount of power used to go back this far she wasn't sure. What she was sure of however, was that there was no going back now. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and in one quick, fluent movement, she yanked a large shard of glass from the skin above her breasts. She gasped, dropping the blood soaked shard on the floor and placing her hands on her knees.

Remembering she had something called a wand, she used a spell to remove the remaining, smaller pieces of glass and healed the deep cuts with a simple spell, the pain instantly relieving itself slightly.

Now she just had to determine if she was where she wanted to be. 1942, that had been her aim. Despite everything she had been through because of him and despite knowing what he would become, Hermione knew in her heart she wouldn't have been able to kill Riddle as a child, despite how much easier it might have made things. Therefore she aimed for a year she knew Riddle would be in Hogwarts but would have yet to make any horcruxes seeing as how his first was the diary when he opened the chamber in his fifth year.

Warily, Hermione made her way to the two doors on one side of the room, pausing a moment, she carefully pushed at one slightly, allowing her to peek out and finding, to her amazement and relief, that she must be in the room of requirement for opposite her, was the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

The corridor itself was shrouded in darkness and Hermione hazard a (obvious) guess that it was night. She wasn't sure whether that was a good thing however.

Letting the door fall from her grasp and shut she backed once again into the room of requirement, which instantly acquired to her needs; providing her with a simple bed. She needed nothing more.

And so, still in her tattered and bloodied clothing, Hermione collapsed onto the plain yet surprisingly soft bed, drifting off into oblivion almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Then the nightmares started.

0~*~0

Early in the morning, Hermione woke, sweating and gasping from a nightmare she already couldn't remember. Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, she let her head drop, eyes squeezed shut as her mind chased off any remaining threads of the nightmare. After she had managed to calm down, she cast a quick tempus to find it was just gone seven in the morning. Rising to her feet, she exited the room of requirement in almost a daze.

The corridors were practically bare, but the few awake students stared at her and she didn't blame them, she must be quite a sight. Her feet carried her no where in particular until she was in an isolated corridor. There she got out her wand and muttered a locating spell. "Tom Marvolo Riddle." She whispered and her wand span around before finally pointing in a single direction.

She was really going to do it, Hermione realised as she followed her wand, her mind distant. Soon it would all be over. She would be gone, her world would be gone but most importantly, _he _would be gone. Her wand led her through corridor after corridor before finally it found him. It was almost as though fate was on her side she thought as she saw him and hatred bubbled inside of her.

For there he was, standing with _his back to her._ At the balcony of the Astronomy tower. Her mind instantly rushed to the day Dumbledore had been hit with the killing curse off the very same tower and she almost laughed at the irony.

She raised her wand silently, confident he hadn't heard her and steadied her resolve. She had to do this, _she had to. _There was no other choice really. _For the greater good._

With that thought, she whispered the two words she had once sworn she would never use before she could change her mind. "_Avada Kedavra." _

0~*~0

It had started off as any other day Tom thought as he stood at the edge of the Tower. He woke earlier than most of the pathetic excuses for wizards and witches in the castle and ate his breakfast in the kitchen. He'd then made a split decision to go to the Astronomy Tower rather than his room in the head dorms or the library.

It was whilst he was standing there that he felt a presence behind him. For once he hadn't heard a sound and it was for this reason he didn't turn round, curious as to who it was but having a suspicion. After all, that kind of power didn't radiate off just anybody. Therefore he was extremely surprised when he heard those two words whispered, not by Dumbledore who had been his original suspicion, but by a girl, said so quietly he couldn't identify the speaker.

He could feel the power of the spell as it shot towards him and it was only thanks to his quick reflexes gained from the dreaded orphanage that he was able to move out of the way of the spell that, Tom realised, wouldn't have ended his life anyway. The spell was too _weak. _

He whipped round, wand out instantly and disarming the person in a second who seemed slightly surprised he had dodged her spell. He then cast a quick '_Incarcerous' _at the offender who didn't even attempt to move out the way of it's path.

Hermione was internally kicking herself as she fell to the ground, ropes tying her down. She should have never underestimated him, he would become the most feared Dark Lord after all and she should've known he wouldn't have been unable to defend himself as a teenager.

As he stalked towards her, she took him in properly for the first time and noticed just how old he appeared to be. Not old exactly but he definitely wasn't in his forth year- more like his sixth or seventh and Hermione wanted to break down. Something had gone wrong.

She was too late.

Her eyes spotted a ring on one of his fingers and she knew, almost distantly, that she had somehow messed up. He'd already made his first and second horcrux. A new mission filled her mind, she'd have to destroy them first. How she wasn't sure, she doubted she'd be able to hold the sword of Gryffindor and she'd never be able to get a basilisk fang. She wanted to scream, she wanted to loose herself to the insanity hanging at the edges of her mind but for now, she managed to hold herself together and forced her eyes up to meet _his. _

Her anger burned just seeing him so close to her. It was _him _that had destroyed _everything. _He didn't deserve to live but suddenly Hermione realised, she had been stupid and naïve to think she could just kill him like that, like a Gryffindor. If she wanted to end his life, she'd have to act like a Slytherin as much as it killed her.

Which was why, as he grabbed her chin in a harsh grip, she kept her face perfectly blank, refusing to show any sign of weakness in front of him.

Then, much to Riddles confusion and curiosity, she smiled at him as though she hadn't just tried to kill him. Hermione forced her entire body to fall limp, collapsing forward and forcing Riddle to catch her. It was a cowardly way out, she knew it was, but she was out of options.

Riddle stared at the unconscious girl, taking in her bloodstained clothes and the scars covering her skin. There was no doubt that she had come from a war but what she was doing here he didn't know. And why had she tried to kill _him? _He'd done nothing to her as far as he knew.

But the _power _he had felt emitting from her stopped him from simply killing her on the spot. She'd tried to take his life after all despite her being messed up in the head and usually he wouldn't have hesitated. The fact that she clearly didn't go to school here would have just made things even easier. But as he stared at her bushy hair, all he could see was the pure power she had just shown and how promising she seemed. It was clear she was no Dumbledore after all even _if _her spell had failed- she had still _tried_ to cast an unforgivable- the killing curse at that and also...

He wanted answers.

And so, mind racing with the possibilities, he decided to take her to the one place they wouldn't be disturbed. He wasn't stupid, he knew carrying an unconscious girl through the school would raise questions so he quickly cast a concealment charm on her before proceeding to levitate her body- unaware that said girl was currently awake and wondering if he was about to try and kill her.

Luckily it was still early in the morning and he hardly met anyone on his walk to the seventh floor corridor where the room instantly acquired to his needs. He created his usual room minus anything the girl might be able to use as a weapon should she wake before he got back. He then continued to dump her body rather carelessly on a couch.

Knowing he had to go to lessons he cast the strange girl one last look before leaving- giving the room strict instructions not to let her out knowing she'd wake up at some point.

Then he left.

0~*~0

Hermione was not in the least bit thrilled with how Tom bloody Riddle had haphazardly levitated her body through the school and then discarded her on a couch as if she was a rag doll of some sort. Nevertheless she remained unresponsive and was therefore thrilled when it paid off and the future Dark Lord had left her in what she knew to be the room of requirement- having peeked at where they were going.

Now that he was gone Hermione was free to stand up and she wondered to herself if Riddle had just had a moment of complete stupidity- or if it was all part of a plan. She soon realised it was neither however when no door greeted her eyes and no matter how much she tried to make one appear- nothing happened.

She growled in annoyance- kicking the arm chair she had previously been ditched in but only succeeding in hurting her foot. Debating whether or not she would be able to blast her way out she noticed- with an almost scream of frustration that the evil bastard had stole her wand.

"That insufferable _git!" _She screamed into the room- glaring at nothing in particular. The room was completely bare as well except for two armchairs, a small wooden table, a fireplace and a bloody _empty _bookcase. He hadn't even been considerable enough to leave her with anything to _do. _Not that she ever expected the Dark-Lord-To-Be to even_ think _about lowering himself to do something _considerate._

Knowing she was trapped and that there was nothing she could do about it- Hermione dropped herself ungracefully onto one of the green armchairs- the colour only succeeding in making her already sour mood even more unpleasant.

Staring at the wooden table Hermione was suddenly struck with an idea. Now- Hermione never usually considered herself a violent person- apart from that one time she had hit Malfoy in the face, but right now- after the man she absolutely despised had left her to be utterly bored in a room that wasn't even providing her with any food or drink... well violence suddenly seemed like a good idea.

And so- Hermione stood up and, bringing back her boot clad leg, she kicked the wooden table with as much force as she could muster. Luckily, all the years training in duelling had made a now 19 year old Hermione stronger than she used to be, and the table shattered under the strength of her boot. And while she got the effect she was after- a sharp pain shot up her leg on impact and it was all she could do not to cry out from the pain. Sitting down and breathing deeply for a few moments, Hermione eventually glanced up and was satisfied when she saw that the leg that she had kicked had snapped off- leaving a rather jagged end to the table leg.

Hermione couldn't help but smirk. Now she had a weapon.

0~*~0

**A/N: **Hope that was okay... I know I know, _another _time travel fic but I am trying to make it different. Let me know of any mistakes as I do want to improve my writing xx I know it might seem strange that Hermione ran from the battle but I didn't give her time to think. And as I said- she will always regret that choice. The only thing that's different is that she's come to accept her choice because she knows that if she had stayed with everyone else and died it really wouldn't have made a difference and Hermione is a girl of logic. She knows that she would've died had she stayed and then she wouldn't have been able to do anything to help save the world. As it is she now has another chance to change everything.

As I stated earlier as well- this is just an idea... a flame that might go out. Therefore I probably won't be updating that often. I have around 10 fan fiction ideas currently started on my computer and I decided to pick this one to post. Ironically this is also the only one that doesn't already have more than one chapter written up. Any concerns/ideas, let me know through review or PM xx This is more of an experiment anyway.

Thank you for reading xox


	2. Chapter 2

The Choices That Make History

**A/N:** Thank you to all those that added to favourites, followed and thanks to 'Guest' for leaving a review.

Here's the second chapter, hope you enjoy it and please read the Authors note at the bottom.

If you spot any spelling/grammar mistakes please let me know so I can fix them. This story does not have a beta so I am basically acting as my own one.

**Disclaimer:** Nope- since my last disclaimer I have not managed to secure ownership of Harry Potter. In case anyone was wondering.

0~*~0

**_Everyone started out a little insane  
But we learn pretty quick how to fake it for the game  
But some of you never learned to drop the act  
So under that skin of yours: a heart attack_**

_~Icon For Hire- Make A Move_

**Chapter 2:**

For the first time in years, Tom Riddle wasn't able to focus on any of his lessons. His mind instead whirring with thoughts of the girl that had tried to kill him.

It seemed he wasn't the only one either.

Gossip quickly spread around the school about a strange girl wandering the corridors of Hogwarts covered in blood and dirt in the early hours of the morning. Very few could actually say that they had seen her, but it was enough.

Soon enough- the word got round to the professors, and then the Headmaster and a search went out for the mysterious Hogwarts student. Not that Tom was worried they would actually find her.

He debated what to do with the topic everyone was talking about. Though he knew the easy- and perhaps most logical- thing to do was to simply kill her and yet... If he could somehow harness her power- make her loyal to only him. She would be a great addition to his ranks. It was a risk but in all honesty- he was _bored. _There was only so much fun he could have with his current followers who all seemed so desperate to impress him. He smirked. They were so _easy. _He wanted a challenge.

He also wanted answers.

After he had gotten his answers he could break her and then- if she proved to be a useless case or was useless herself- he would dispose of her.

With all these thoughts in his head Tom made his way to the Room of Requirement once curfew had passed and all the students were in their dorms. One of the many perks of being Head Boy, a position he'd worked so hard to gain.

Entering the room the door disappeared behind him and he looked up- only to have his eyes widen in shock and have to duck when something came flying towards him, smashing into the now blank wall behind him right where his head had been previously.

0~*~0

Sitting on the armchair hours after being left there, Hermione turned the table leg over and over in her hands and suddenly, her plan seemed stupid. _Weapon? _What good would a pathetic piece of wood do against one of the most powerful wizards in existence? Nothing. That was what. Especially when said wizard had magic at his disposal. Even _if _she managed to somehow hit him with it she doubted it would do much damage. A bit of short-lived pain maybe but that was it.

Why was her life so messed up? Why did they lose? Why did they all _die? _

The answers evaded her. Maybe she should just kill herself? At least then she would be able to join everyone she loved in death. The more she thought about it, the more tempting it sounded. But then her mind drifted back to the horror she had come from. Could she really just leave everyone to suffer? There was no doubt that in his quest for power, Voldemort had gone insane and destroyed the very world he wanted to rule.

Determination filled her- she had to kill him. She _had _to. If she succeeded Harry would never have lost his parents. Heck- millions of people would live that had previously died or had been in some way affected by the wars. If she succeeded, another version of her could live, make friends and attend Hogwarts without the constant threat of death hanging over her. Without having to worry about anything except things that seemed so trivial now. Whether she wanted it or not, the fate of the world now lay in Hermione hands and she'd be damned if she failed.

But how was she supposed to kill him? The bastard had stolen her wand and she felt empty without it. The thing was practically her life line. She'd been forced to consider using a bloody _table leg_ as a weapon.

Glaring a said object she chucked it in a general direction- not having noticed the exact boy of her problems enter- and she watched with slight surprise and satisfaction when the object came inches from hitting him in his annoyingly handsome face.

_Handsome? _

If anything Hermione's glare intensified. She was _not _allowed to think of snake face as _handsome. _The description brought forward an image of his future self and she immediately relaxed- the word leaving her brain in a rush before getting burnt to ashes in hell.

She watched as anger flooded into his eyes and his midnight orbs met her muddy brown ones. A part of her screamed to look away from the intensity of his gaze but the Gryffindor in her refused to back down.

After a tense moment where neither uttered a word- simply stared at the other- Hermione finally spoke, her voice coming out hard. "Give. Me. My. Wand." She said bluntly, glaring at him when he only raised an eyebrow, an infuriating smirk curling at his lips.

"So you can try to kill me again?" He replied, his voice coming out soft and _dangerous. _Triggering every response in Hermione to take the 'flight' action. She stood her ground though, she was a Gryffindor, she was going to _fight. _

"Scared?" She spat.

Riddle rolled his eyes, "Of someone who couldn't even cast a proper killing curse? Of course not."

Tom knew she had the power to cast the spell. It was the _intent _she lacked.

Hermione blinked in surprise. She had felt pretty certain she'd got it right but then- she had never cast it or anything like it before. And while a part of her was utterly annoyed that she had failed a spell, another part felt thoroughly relieved that she, technically, hadn't cast an unforgivable.

Riddle read these emotions on her face with curiosity. "Why?"

Hermione paused. _Why had she tried to kill him?_ She realised she was standing on the edge of a very fine line at the moment and that one wrong move and she'd be dead before she could even blink. But she was completely stumped at how to answer that question. She couldn't very well tell the _truth... _She couldn't imagine _'well you see, I came back from the future to kill you so that you don't rise to become an evil Dark Lord and destroy everything I love'_ would go down too well.

Hermione prided herself to be quick on her feet but at this current moment in time- her usually active mind was refusing to come up with an appropriate answer. She tried frantically to _think. _To come up with a story that would sound believable... but what would be a good excuse as to why she'd tried to kill a supposedly random person?

Riddle was getting impatient at her lack of answer and she held a hand up to pause him in whatever he was about to say. "Hang on." She said to him- her voice betraying the desperation she felt, her brows creasing in thought.

He stared at her in slight disbelief and if the circumstances hadn't been so dire, Hermione might have laughed. As it was she glared sullenly at the ground when her mind continued to come up blank.

Suddenly she felt a harsh grip on her chin and her face was forcefully dragged up so she was looking at his eyes. How had he managed to move across half the room without her noticing? With such a short distance between them Hermione noticed just how _dark _and _cold_ his eyes were. The lack of distance between them was all too obvious, Hermione could feel his warm breath as it brushed gently across her face and she tried to pull away- part of her disgusted that he was even touching her but his grip was hard and unrelenting and Hermione found herself staring unwillingly into his deep eyes, despite knowing what he was planning on doing.

After her best friends and almost everyone she knew died in the Battle of Hogwarts Hermione had taken to learning a bit about occlumency, but by no means did that mean she was _good _at it. But it did mean she _was _good enough to notice when someone was doing it and she tried frantically to remember all she had learnt. Riddle's attack wasn't very strong- likely he didn't expect her to even know such things as the mind arts existed.

Hermione managed to create a rather feeble wall blocking him from her mind, though she was perfectly aware that just one more push and he would be able to crack through her pathetic defence.

His attack hit her wall softly and she watched as Riddle's eyes widened ever so slightly- betraying his surprise. Before he could attack again but stronger, with a great amount of will Hermione managed to tear her eyes from his- instead gazing past his face and staring stubbornly at the wall behind him.

His hand let go of her chin and Hermione instantly relaxed slightly- having the future Dark Lord touch her in any way was _not_ something on her 'things to do' list.

As soon as she was able to Hermione immediately took a step back, trying to put as much distance as she could between them. This action did not go unnoticed by the boy opposite her but his eyes betrayed nothing.

Suddenly he smirked. "Make yourself comfortable..." His eyes drifted to the broken table and a perfect eyebrow was raised, "I'll be back and maybe then you'll be willing to tell me. If not..." His eyes glinted dangerously and Hermione couldn't stop the shiver at the unspoken sentence. '_Or else.'_

Then he left and she was once again left alone in what Hermione was now calling the most boring room in existence. Watching as his figure disappeared Hermione grinned slightly, and as the door to her prison faded out of existence, Hermione reached into her pocket and withdrew her wand- twirling it between her fingers. Still not quite believing that she had technically just _pick pocketed_ the Dark Lord, Hermione approached the wall, placing her hand on the solid stone so that her palm was pressed against the cold surface.

Whether or not this would work Hermione had no clue but she had to try. Pointing her wand at herself Hermione swore to be more aware of her most precious object before whispering a spell, "E_xpers Corporis._"

She felt the feeling of cool liquid rush through her entire body and suddenly- the wall in which her palm was resting against no longer felt so solid. With a forceful push Hermione grinned when her hand disappeared- going _through _the wall before she withdrew it. Thinking to herself that it was just like the platform 9 and 3/4 Hermione steeled her nerves and simply walked forwards- disappearing into the wall itself.

For a moment there was only darkness and Hermione felt a small sliver of panic working its way through her stomach but she continued to push forwards, determination swirling through her. After what felt like minutes but was, in actual fact, only seconds- Hermione emerged on the other side of the wall.

Staring up and down the empty hallway Hermione laughed to herself. She had, technically, just outsmarted the young Dark Lord.

_Now what? _She thought to herself, a small frown creasing her features. Sure she could simply find Riddle again and attempt to kill him but Hermione learnt from her mistakes. She then thought about his horcruxes. It would probably be easier for her if she killed Voldemort first and then worried about his soul pieces.

_But how was she supposed to kill him in the first place? _

Hermione sighed when she realised she had probably messed that plan up. Because Voldemort was never going to trust her after her failed attempt at murdering him and Hermione figured the easiest way to complete her mission would be to get close to him.

Why was everything so _complicated? _She was only 19 for Merlin's sake. Her biggest worry at the moment was supposed to be finding a bloody _job. _Not how she should _kill _someone.

But then- Hermione had never had a normal or easy life. Even before Hogwarts- when she was oblivious to the magical world and all the problems within it. No, before Hogwarts she was _different _to everyone else. Only her parents seemed to accept who she was and they were _dead. _Most importantly they were dead _because _of what she was.

It was unfair but it was life. And Hermione was just going to have to live with it.

Whilst she was standing there thinking to herself, someone had walked down the very same corridor and was now looking at her through twinkling eyes.

"I believe the whole school has been searching for you miss...?"

Hermione jumped- jolting out of her thoughts and turning to stare at the man before her. Her eyes widened of their own accord and all she could do was stare. Because standing in front of her- alive and very much not dead- was Professor Dumbledore.

Then his words caught up with her and she frowned, "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore chuckled and Hermione was struck with a pang of loss and homesickness. Remembering all too well the Dumbledore of her time but more importantly, everyone else that went with that memory.

"You made quite the impression this morning," His blue eyes flickered over her torn and bloodied clothing behind half moon spectacles. "May I ask what you are doing in Hogwarts when you are clearly not a student?"

Hermione winced, turning her gaze to the floor as she thought. Making a quick decision Hermione snapped her head back up and looked him straight in the eye. "Of course professor. But would you mind if we took this somewhere more private?"

0~*~0

"Forgive me miss.. Granger but you'll have to excuse me when I say that this sounds quite unbelievable."

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, hoping that the wise old man would believe her even _if_ it was asking a lot which she knew it was. She had told him that she was from the future- a future she refused to talk about as Hermione was well aware of the dangers of meddling with time- and even if she managed to kill Riddle and that world ceased to exist, Hermione adamantly refused to take any chances.

She'd told him that she'd been sent here to do something though what that something was she also left out. Somehow Hermione had trouble believing that this Dumbledore would be okay with her killing someone even if that someone was the most evil, insane and powerful Dark Lord to ever exist.

"I can't tell you much of what happens in the future professor," Hermione admitted, her eyes following her own fingers as they played with the fraying edges of her robes, "But I can tell you that it's not pleasant- neither will it get any better unless I _do _something about it. If there was another way then I'd take it but there's _not _so I _have _to do this." Conviction burned in her eyes as she said this- fuelled by her fury at the Dark Lord and everything he'd taken from her.

"Be that as it may miss Granger but what exactly are you expecting me to do about it?" The words weren't cruel- they were simply curious- suspicious.

Finally Hermione lifted her gaze and stared solemnly at him, "I'm not _expecting_ you to help me professor. But I've arrived here with nothing and what I am to do next I don't know." Hermione smiled sadly, "So no, I'm not _expecting _you to do anything, sir, to help me but I admit I _need _help."

Hermione winced slightly at this. She hated asking for help- preferring to figure things out on her own but logically Hermione knew that, without inside help, she might as well just give up now.

Dumbledore studied her- his perceptive eyes piercing hers as if looking for any signs of lies or deception. Seeing nothing but grief and a pure determination however he finally- slowly- nodded his head.

"Very well miss Granger. What is it you would like doing?"

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and for the first time since she'd arrived here, she smiled properly at the younger version of Dumbledore- the expression feeling slightly strange on her face having not done it in so long.

"I'd like to enrol in Hogwarts."

0~*~0

It felt weird being back in the Headmaster's office. It also felt _wrong. _Hermione had gotten used to _Dumbledore's _office in her time- the bright colours, all the odd little trinkets placed in an organised mess about the place and the beautiful phoenix that always succeeded in lifting her mood.

Now, Armando Dippet's office in comparison was so... _dull. _

Despite this Hermione kept a polite- if fake- smile on her face as she met with the current Headmaster and explained the back story she and Dumbledore had come up with.

Hermione had kept her name- refusing to change her identity which also meant she would still be known as a muggle born. This had caused an argument between her and Dumbledore who insisted it would be wiser and easier for her if she went with a story of a half or pureblood who was home-schooled.

Stubborn as she was though Hermione had refused to back down and Dumbledore had to admire her for it. '_I'm proud of who I am.'_ She had told him, '_I don't need to hide behind false securities.'_

So now, Hermione Granger was a muggle born orphan who had been adopted by a wizard and then home-schooled. Dumbledore had said it would be too risky saying she had attended another school- it would be too easy for someone to check and unravel the lie.

Therefore she was now the adopted child of an unknown wizard who had recently died in the war against Grindewald- leaving her on her own. Some dark wizards had attacked and though they had fought back- they had succeeded in killing him but before Hermione could suffer the same fate, she had activated a port key given to her by her 'father' and been taken to Hogwarts- hence why she had been seen wandering the halls .

The story might be _filled_ with holes but given the circumstances it was the best they could come up with and as long as no one looked too deeply- she would be fine.

Of course the one person Hermione knew was most likely to figure her out was already extremely suspicious of her and she couldn't help but curse herself for her rash actions.

She'd worry about that later as for now, Dippet was asking her questions about her schooling. "And do you have your O.W.L results miss Granger?"

It was a harmless question, yet at the same time it was a dangerous one.

Hermione had no copies of her results and she said as much, watching as the Headmaster frowned slightly. "And why is that?"

"My foster-father taught me everything I know sir but one thing he didn't do is have me perform O.W.L.s. It wasn't the most important thing on our minds."

Dippet slowly nodded his head, his eyes flickering to the figure in the corner, "In that case I shall require proof of your magical abilities to be able to sort you into the correct classes."

Hermione nodded her head- relieved that she was apparently still allowed to attend.

"What electives would you like to take?"

"Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." Hermione said without hesitation and the Headmaster nodded- scribbling something down on a scroll of parchment.

"Professor Dumbledore will perform tests for those as well as all your core classes. Once that is determined you will be sorted into a house."

Now that it was really happening Hermione thought about what house she wanted to be placed in. Gryffindor was her first choice, of _course _it was but was it really the one she needed to be in?

Slytherin would be hard- her being a muggle born and besides, she'd be too close to Voldemort which would give him more opportunities to fulfil his promise of 'or else'. But again, it might give _her _more opportunities to kill him. However there was also the issue of if the hat would even place her in Slytherin.

Ravenclaw seemed like a good compromise it had been between that and Gryffindor in her first year and Hermione admitted it would be nice to be surrounded by _intelligent _people for once. Not that she was implying Gryffindor's were unintelligent but the truth was, the majority cared more about Quidditch, pulling pranks, insulting Slytherins and playing games than actually studying and doing work.

Hufflepuff... Well she supposed if she wanted to be underestimated then that house would be the best one.

"Thank you sir." Hermione said, glancing at the bearded wizard who had stood silently in the corner throughout the entire exchange.

Once she was dismissed Dumbledore led her to his office. "We shall be quick," He told her once they had arrived, "That way you can be sorted into your house and can rest in your new dorm."

Hermione nodded her head- it was past midnight now. She had gotten used to having little to no sleep however and this was barely affecting her. She wasn't missing her sleep. Sleep meant nightmares that often left her screaming in the dead of night or twisting and turning violently in the early hours of the morning, leaving her glistening in sweat when she woke.

Each test went fairly quickly- the longest being potions in which she produced a seventh year elixir. Hermione saw no reason to hide her skills. Being Hermione she performed to her best and had fun doing so. Once everything was done the time had passed 2 in the morning and Dumbledore smiled at her.

"Impressive miss Granger. There should be no problem in you getting the classes you want."

The witch grinned, the air around her crackling slightly with magic and Dumbledore studied her curiously and- was there suspicion in his eyes? Hermione wouldn't blame him if there was.

"Perhaps we should work on finding a way to get you home."

Hermione froze at hearing those words as they left the professor's mouth and she tried not to show her alarm. "How do you mean sir?"

"Once you've finished your mission it's prudent that you don't remain in this time." The wizard said solemnly, "Bad things happen to those that meddle in time. You don't want to change the future too drastically or the consequences might be extremely dire."

_Such as wiping a whole world out of existence? _

Hermione internally winced but nonetheless she nodded her head. She couldn't tell the future Headmaster what the consequences of her actions were to be. He'd never allow her to do it. Instead he'd probably say something dubious along the lines of, '_Maybe that is what's supposed to happen miss Granger. After all, the future happens for a reason. Let it be.'_

Hermione sighed as she left the Transfiguration classroom and followed behind Dumbledore back to Dippet's office. As much as she hated lying to her old Headmaster- Hermione realised that she could not tell him the truth. He probably thought she was sent to find something. Such as an object or information that would have no effect on the world she left but would instead help her in the future.

Unfortunately it was not as simple as that. There was nothing she could find here that would help her back in her time and even if there _was... _Would it really be worth it? When there was so little left of her own world. No, Hermione realised. Even if there was something like that she knew she'd still follow her original plan. Because here, even if she was ending a world- she was creating a new, better one... a new start. Whether or not Dumbledore would share her thoughts she didn't know.

And she didn't intend to find out either.

0~*~0

"Hermione is more than qualified for the seventh year classes." Dumbledore said to Dippet once they had arrived in his office. The Headmaster nodded his head and stood up, walking over to the shelf in which the talking hat lived upon.

Two wrinkled hands reached out and lifted up the worn piece of fabric before bringing it over the Hermione.

Said witch barely had time to think more on what house she wanted to be in before the hat was placed on top of her bushy brown hair and suddenly a familiar 'voice' was heard inside her head.

'_Miss Granger... so we meet again apparently? Well this is certainly interesting...' _

0~*~0

Dumbledore sat behind his desk thoughtfully, his hands absently unwrapping a sherbet lemon and popping the delightful sweet into his mouth. Then his thoughts went to the young witch- miss Granger. Dumbledore wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. He had no doubt that she had come from the future- he'd checked every sort of record he could and there wasn't even the faintest whisper of the witch throughout history. One thing he could tell however, was that she was _powerful,_ and the great wizard resolved to keep a watchful eye on her.

Time travellers were rare after all and they were dangerous. He didn't believe miss Granger had bad intentions but that didn't mean he would agree with whatever they were.

He would make sure to watch her- watch who she interacted with and how she did so, watch her performance in and out of class and maybe even use legilimency on her if he was concerned enough, however he dearly hoped he wouldn't have to.

There was something off about her as well- something darker in her bright, intelligent eyes but what it was Dumbledore didn't know. He resolved to find out.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading- hopefully the chapter wasn't too bad. I know some were wondering about the hat and no- it doesn't 'remember' sorting Hermione previously. It can just see in her head and knows that she has been sorted before. It might be a magic hat but it's not _that _amazing.

Now I'm not sure what house to have Hermione placed in- I'm fine with any of them but if anyone has any preferences please let me know. Thank you xox


	3. Chapter 3

The** Choices That Make History**

This chapter is just a filler and an introduction of sorts so therefore it is probably extremely boring but it's necessary and I hope someone likes it.

As it stands I have a few ideas for the future however it's getting to those points that's taking time.

**Disclaimer:** ...Nope. Not mine.

**Warning:** I suppose there is a bit of gore at the beginning if that worries you- it's merely during a dream and is not something important to the plot if you want to skip over it. It's just to show how unstable Hermione's mind can get and the horrors that she tries to put up with.

**_And if I had the answers I'd have written them out  
So I can tell you what to do and what this thing is about  
But all I've ever learned comes second-hand  
And I dare not preach what I don't understand_**

_~Icon For Hire- Make A Move_

Chapter 3:

Hermione stared blankly at the hangings surrounding her bed in her new dorm. Two hours had passed since she had been sorted and Hermione was beginning to doubt she would get any sleep that night. Maybe it was that her mind was currently too active- refusing to stay still with the thousands of worries and questions that raced through her head... Or maybe it was simply the fact that she was _scared _to fall into the depths of her mind that she always tried to block out- to keep behind lock and key. Just one night, just one she wished she could simply fall into oblivion- a dreamless sleep without the constant pain she felt... but that had yet to occur since the Battle of Hogwarts.

In the morning Hermione would be going to Diagon Alley to purchase some new clothes and school equipment but with what money Hermione didn't know. Dumbledore had merely told her that he would handle it and Hermione didn't see the point in questioning.

Sighing, Hermione rolled onto her back, allowing a small fraction of the inner pain and insanity to show on her face- something she would only allow when she was alone. To everyone else she was cool and collected, or at least- she liked to think she was. A part of her was worried about what was happening inside her mind... Ever so slowly it was barely unnoticeable, it was getting harder to think clearly- instead her thoughts seemed to rush too fast- blurring everything together: words, colours, sounds... And Hermione was terrified what this meant for her.

For now she pushed it behind her- she had to focus. She couldn't allow her own mind to turn against her, no, that was the _last _thing she needed. Closing her eyes Hermione forced her body to relax and her mind to go as blank as she could make it- slowing her breathing down and focusing on her steady heartbeat.

After a few minutes Hermione finally managed to drift off into what she hoped would be a peaceful sleep but knew she would be anything but.

_Running. Silence. That was all she was aware of. The need to __**run**. __The fear of whatever she was running from in the eerie silence that had fallen around her- suffocating her. _

_The only noise disturbing the stillness engulfing her being the pound of her own heart- the noise echoing round and round in her head like the constant beat of drums. _

_The blackness she'd been running in suddenly shifted- the scene changing to that of a forest- the branches lurching out of her like __the __long arms of monsters- their sharp claws tearing at her skin leaving a wake of torn __flesh__ from which crimson blood __poured.__ Reaching up her hands to her wet face Hermione wiped at her mutilated skin before looking at her hands in horror. The blood covered them- screaming at her. __Eventually the branches became too clustered for her to escape- their unrelenting talons digging into her skin and tearing away the flesh. Hermione opened her mouth to scream- the pain intolerable- but could only feel her horror rise when nothing came out. Instead she screamed and screamed in silence because- __in the end- there was no one around to hear her. _

Gasping for breath Hermione woke- pupils dilated as they managed to focus on the ceiling above her. It had just gone half nine- half an hour until she needed to meet Dumbledore in his office. Swiping the hangings aside Hermione glanced round the empty dorm- everyone else having left for their classesto which she was grateful for... She would rather avoid the inevitable questions for now.

Slowly, Hermione made her way to the bathroom- stopping in front of the mirror once she arrived. She really did look awful, Hermione realised. Her brown hair was sickly greasy, sticking up at all odds and ends- caked in dirt and dried blood like the rest of her. Dimly Hermione wondered at how long ago she had washed her hair- even just using magic but gathered it must be at least 2 weeks since she had. There had tended to be more important things to worry about.

Hermione had spent the last year and a several months just hiding, running- _surviving. _Voldemort and his minions had just forgotten her- without Harry and Ron she was useless, she was _nothing. _

So she hid, _knowing _that there was little she could do and any attempt would just result in her death. That didn't mean she avoided fights however- she lived in a world that _hunted _and _slaughtered _her kind. Mudbloods. Hermione considered the word... as that was all it was to her now- a word. If she was to get two bowls and fill one with her blood and another with some from a pureblood, Hermione doubted _anyone_ would be able to tell the difference just by looking. They wouldn't be a different colour, they wouldn't be a different thickness, the 'pureblood' wouldn't contain gold sparkles or whatever they thought it did- they would both look like _human _blood. And weren't they all human?

But Hermione knew there wasn't much point dwelling on it- there would always be discrimination, in both the wizarding and the muggle world. That was just life. That didn't mean however that Hermione wasn't going to fight _damn _hard to try and make life just that little bit more equal.

Getting in a shower Hermione spent the next 20 or so minutes scrubbing herself clean until all the blood and dirt had been replaced by irritated red skin that burnt in the hot water. She merely ignored the pain- a part of her so desperate to try and remove it all- scrub away the past and leave behind a new future. The scars would never go away however and now that every inch of her body wasn't covered with filth and excrement- they became obvious.

Leaving the shower Hermione cast several spells on herself- concealing the scars and styling her hair so it didn't look like a _complete_ birds-nest. Looking in the mirror once again and simply accepting how she looked- Hermione realised with a small amount of panic that she had nothing to wear. Sighing to herself she cautiously exited the bathroom and looked around the dorm, relief filling her when she spotted some clean robes lying folded up on her bed. Internally thanking whoever it was that had thought ahead she hurriedly changed and left the Ravenclaw tower.

For that was her new house- Ravenclaw.

She supposed she was happy with her house. She had always wanted to know what being a part of Ravenclaw was like and besides- it would make it easier to avoid a certain dark haired boy.

Hermione barely paid attention to where she was walking at first and she hurriedly had to change direction when she remembered that Dumbledore wasn't yet the Headmaster and that thought came with a small pang in her heart.

Reaching his office a minute or so before she was due Hermione knocked on the door to the transfiguration classroom and proceeded to enter when she heard a voice call out to her.

"Ah!" Dumbledore exclaimed when she entered- the classroom bare from students. The eccentric wizard smiled pleasantly at her. "Ready to leave?"

By the end of the day Hermione had everything she needed. Apparently there was a special fund for those without parents or anyone to care for them and although it wasn't much and she had to get the cheapest of everything- for Hermione it was more than she could have hoped for.

Dumbledore had left back for the castle once he was certain Hermione knew what she was doing and he had given her the money, a bag and her timetable. She assumed that he had lessons to teach but Hermione was secretly glad she was left to her own devices. She supposed that, in the end, that was how she had always preferred it. Or at least, that was what she told herself because in truth- _she was __alone._

Now- back at Hogwarts Hermione debated on what to do. She'd obviously have to go back to her dorm at some point to deliver her new things and, sighing slightly, Hermione decided to simply get it over with. She knew that classes would have ended by now and that meant the Ravenclaw Tower would no longer be empty. And that meant nosy people just bustling with invading questions. For the first time since being sorted, Hermione regretted being placed in Ravenclaw. After all- they would probably be the most invading to her personal life and blunt about it as well.

Arriving at her new living arrangements Hermione banged on the bronze, eagle shaped knocker on the door that was blocking her entrance and a riddle was soon heard. Personally Hermione thought it was a stupid way to protect the common room and everything else. _Anyone _with a brain would be able to answer the riddles and here was one other regret Hermione felt at being sorted into Ravenclaw. Just how secure would she be in her dorm when Tom Riddle could _easily _enter if he wished. Because if a bunch of Ravenclaw first years could manage then Tom fucking Riddle would certainly be able to.

_'__This engulfing thing is strange indeed. The greater it grows, the less you see.__'_

Hermione barely even thought about it before rolling her eyes at the obvious answer. Scratch Riddle getting in, a bloody 3 year old would be able to.

"Darkness." Hermione said, her voice coming out slightly annoyed without meaning to, but like she was going to apologise to a _door. _

Without another word, said door slowly opened and Hermione paused briefly. Gathering her nerves and holding her head high, Hermione entered before she could debate otherwise.

As it turned out- she needn't have worried. For no one paid her the slightest bit of attention save for a brief glance which was extended slightly when they focused on her hair before dismissing her. Relieved, Hermione remembered her way back to her dorm which she noticed was still empty. Dumping her bottomless and feather-light bag which was filled with her belongings on her bed, Hermione soon followed and she lay on her back- staring up at the ceiling.

Now that she was here Hermione realised she was going to have to plan her next move- and preferably the one after that... and the one after that whilst allowing for variables. Tilting her head to the side Hermione couldn't help but look slightly enviously at the bed to the side of her. All around the bed were clusters of books and parchment and make-up and pictures. _Normal _things. They were her age. Hermione realised. But she might as well have been twice theirs.

She _had _to stop Voldemort before well- before he could _become _Voldemort.

But she didn't know _how. _She had already given herself away because she wasn't _thinking. _

Before she could think up any solutions however (though Hermione doubted she would be able to come up with something solid), someone else entered the dorm.

Said person was short and slim with blonde hair curled in what Hermione assumed was the whole 'look' for the 1940's. Speaking of the 'fashion' of the era- Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable in her new clothes which she wasn't used to. While Hermione had never had a problem with skirts that went to or below the knee- Hermione had the sudden urge to make it shorter simply because of how scandalous that would seem. After all, her hair would already make her stick out. Hermione grinned slightly. She _knew _she wouldn't agree with today's rules and society so why try and fit into the era?

She was the new girl here. Everyone had yet to form an opinion. She could be seen as who she wanted to be- she could _be _who she wanted to be and damn what society thought. Grinning suddenly at the thought Hermione watched as the petite girl rummaged around in the parchment beside her bed before all at once realising she wasn't alone.

Her head whipped round and wide, inquisitive hazel eyes met Hermione's dark brown ones. The witch herself was... cute. If Hermione had to pick a word. With tiny features and pale skin along with a light dusting of freckles she reminded Hermione of a pixie, though she had never seen one herself.

"Hello?" The girl asked- her eyes betraying her curiosity at the strange girl sitting on the new bed. They had known there was someone new sharing their dorm with them this morning having seen the extra bed but hadn't had a chance to find out who.

Hermione offered the girl a smile, "Hey." She replied, making sure to keep her voice light and not sounding as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Upon seeing that the new girl was supposedly friendly, the pixie grinned- jumping on her bed so that she was sitting facing Hermione with her legs swinging off the side.

"I'm Sierra." The girl- Sierra started, the grin still stretching at her lips. Then she seemed to realise she hadn't given her full name, "Sierra Brook that is."

Silence. And Hermione realised she would have to give her own name for the sake of being polite. "Hermione Granger."

"So how come you are here now? I mean, it's great and all that you are, but why?"

Hermione stared for a second. She didn't think she had ever met someone so... _chirpy. _

Withholding a sigh, she thought that it would be an excellent time to practice her story. "My father he..." Hermione trailed off as though it was hard to continue, casting her eyes downwards as if fighting back tears. Taking a deep, and very much falsely needed, breath, Hermione continued. "He died." She finally 'admitted', raising her eyes so that they were once more trained on Sierra.

Sympathy filled the small girl's eyes, "Oh I'm so sorry. Forget I asked."

Hermione shot her a thankful look, smiling sadly.

She didn't have to fake the sadness.

"Come on!" The other girl suddenly exclaimed brightly and Hermione was pretty sure it was in an attempt to cheer her up, "I'll introduce you to everyone else." With that said she jumped up onto her feet and before Hermione could fully comprehend what was happening, she found herself being dragged by the wrist out the dorm. Slightly bewildered Hermione could do nothing but let her.

In the end Hermione was introduced to the two other girls she was sharing a dorm with and several other people in her year that she knew she wouldn't remember the names of later. Before she knew it, the castle had fallen into darkness and she was back in her bed- hangings drawn and charmed.

And, for the first time in months, Hermione fell asleep almost instantly- even if the sleep was anything but peaceful.

_'You shouldn't be here...'_

_'Leave...'_

_'You don't belong...'_

_'Go back...'_

_'Wrong...'_

_'Leave **now!'**_

Hermione woke with a gasp. That was... new. She could still hear the whispers in her head. Raspy and grating, grinding against her skull and she shook her head forcefully- trying to rid her mind of them.

Sitting up and placing her head on her knees for a few moments the young witch took several deep breaths- focusing on a blankness. When her mind was finally clear she drew back the deep blue hangings and glanced around the quiet dorm. Everyone else was sleeping soundly and Hermione envied them.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep and that it was almost time to get up anyway- Hermione got herself dressed before leaving for the Great Hall. It was empty when she arrived but food was instantly served when she sat down. It was only after she had taken her first bite did she realise she was sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Struck with a sudden bout of homesickness Hermione swallowed, staring around the hall with slightly misty eyes. All she could see before her was her time. _Her _friends. Harry and Ron and Neville and Luna and Ginny and the twins and _everyone _else who was now dead.

_They should be here. They shouldn't have died. She shouldn't have lived. They. Shouldn't. Have. **Died.**_

Hermione choked, unable to take it anymore and she was suddenly on her feet and _running. _Running where she didn't know. Just away. Away from the painful memories. But everywhere she turned she saw something from her life. Harry and Ron would be there when she turned a corner. The twins would be pulling some kind of prank as she ran down a hall. Heck- even Draco would be there- sneering at her in a way she hated but at the same time _missed so much _because it was _normal. _It was what things _should _be like.

Her heart pounded at a thousand beats per second- her breaths came out too short and her eyes were wide with panic and pain. Later she would be thankful that she met no one during her panic attack. But for now- all she could focus on was running- running from her past because if she was completely honest with herself- she didn't want it to be her past. She didn't want it to _exist _because despite all the good times, all the fun and laughs and moments she would always treasure- the _pain, _the pure agony over all that she had had and lost was too much. It was suffocating her and she just wanted it to _end. _

Finally she reached where she guessed she must have been aiming all along: The library.

Slowing down slightly Hermione entered before rushing to a back corner behind several bookcases and simply curling up in a ball on the floor. Hugging her knees to herself Hermione finally calmed down enough to realise she had had a panic attack and she focused on her breathing, clearing her mind from all the thoughts that plagued her. The library had always been her sanctuary. She had often come her to be alone.

And if she tried hard enough- Hermione could just pretend that it was just like normal- that it was just one of those times she had been upset or annoyed by Ron or simply wanted to spend some time alone to think or study. And that, when she left, she would find them in the Gryffindor common room or in the Great Hall and they would talk and laugh and joke and act as though there wasn't a great war looming in the near future.

And so Hermione imagined. For that was the only way she could cope.

She wasn't sure how long she simply sat there, hugging herself in a vain attempt of comfort, but it was obviously long enough for a few trickles of students to enter and grab some books for last minute homework or classes and Hermione forced herself to, shakily, stand up.

Realising that in her panic she had left her bag in the Great Hall, Hermione cursed and quickly left the library, performing a super fast walk back in the direction she had come. By the time she arrived the hall was empty with everyone having left for their first class and Hermione grabbed her bag that she had easily spotted upon entering and almost sprinted out the hall after checking her timetable.

Potions was first and she had to run all the way down to the dungeons- now panicking for a completely different reason. She _hated _being late to things. And right now it meant that everyone's eyes would be trained on her when she entered which was what she had been hoping to avoid. No chance of simply slipping into the background now.

Resigning herself to that fact Hermione finally reached the classroom and took a second to catch her breath. Placing her hand on the door knob she briefly wondered who her teacher would be before pushing the door open.

As predicted everyone fell silent and stared as the new girl entered. Late.

"Ah you must be Miss Granger." A short, strawberry blonde, podgy man said that was standing at the front of the class and Hermione had to stop her features from slipping into an arrangement of horror. _Surely not._

It was though... Horace Slughorn only younger and with hair. And a _beard._

Hermione could remember too well his little Slugclub meetings in her sixth year and she had to stop herself from groaning out loud. Instead, she plastered on what felt to her, a very fake apologetic smile.

"I'm awfully sorry sir but I'm afraid I got lost. I've yet to completely learn my way around." Hermione lied- forcing her tone to sound polite whereas all she wanted to do was, for lack of better words, sneer at him in disgust.

Luckily, Slughorn didn't seem to spot the true emotions behind her eyes and he simply gave her a smile, "That's quite all right Miss Granger. We have yet to start." He then gestured to the only empty seat in the classroom next to a Ravenclaw boy and she sat down. To her slight relief the house that she shared this class with was Hufflepuff meaning she wouldn't have to face Riddle for at least another hour and a quarter. She didn't care how cowardly she was being. Riddle was _dangerous _and she had tried to kill him. And for someone that was terrified of dying and went through such great lengths to make himself immortal well... Hermione doubted it was something he'd let off lightly. Honestly she was surprised that she was still in one piece.

Potions went fairly quick and Hermione had already succeeded in impressing the annoying professor much to her chagrin by making a perfect potion. But she was Hermione and she would be damned if she didn't let everyone know just how good she was. She _knew _she was better than all the purebloods that stuck up their noses at her. And she would show them that too even if they refused to admit that a muggle-born could possibly be more powerful than them.

Grinning slightly to herself she was brought out of her thoughts by a small figure rushing up beside her. Looking down at the girl that barely reached her chest, Hermione saw Sierra walking next to her with a grin on her face.

"You're amazing at potions! I think Slughorn has completely forgot about you turning up late." Hermione wasn't sure whether to wince or be amused at the witch's enthusiasm with... everything.

"Thanks." She returned, unsure of what else to say.

Sierra it seemed, however, was more than willing to continue on the conversation herself and Hermione had to wonder at why the witch was being so friendly with someone she barely knew. "And did you see the way Ethan was looking at you?"

_Ethan? _Hermione wondered absently to herself.

"Not that I blame him- you're gorgeous in an untamed way. Do you even _do _your hair in the morning?" She continued before Hermione could respond and she gathered that it must have either been a rhetorical question- or the small girl was just too impatient to wait for a reply. "Say what's your next class? I've got Transfiguration."

"Same." Hermione managed to say before Sierra was talking again.

"That's great. Dumbledore's a great teacher of course though we share the class with Slytherin's and I honestly don't think he likes some of them all that much. Also it's-"

Hermione didn't hear whatever else Sierra was about to say. Her mind was instead focusing on what she had just mentioned. They shared with Slytherin's. That meant the mini Dark Lord was just minutes away.

_Don't panic. _Hermione told herself. He can't do anything to you in a crowded classroom. He'll have his precious reputation to keep after all.

Mostly calm Hermione finally tuned back in to what the other girl was saying who hadn't seemed to realised the witch walking next to her had not been listening for around the last five minutes.

Entering Dumbledore's classroom Hermione's eyes couldn't help but scan the room straight away and she regretted it almost instantly.

For, sitting at the back with his eyes trained on her, was the man from her nightmares. Hermione could see the cold fury behind those eyes at that moment as they stared into her soul- even if no one else could.

Resisting the urge to shudder Hermione was suddenly filled with rage herself as he stared at him. How dare _he _be angry at her. It was _him _that had took everything from her. _Him _that had destroyed her entire life and left it to burn. It was _him _that deserved to die. Hermione didn't think that many people did- but she would make an exception in his case. All she saw as she looked into his midnight blue eyes was red. The burning red orbs that they would become. The same orbs that had stared at Harry's dead body in triumph and glee. The same eyes that watched with pleasure as everything burnt to ash around him.

She wanted to kill him. She didn't realised until now just how much her mind screamed at her to end him- to end the future he would destroy. It burned at the front of her mind- searing through every coherent thought and it took _all _of her focus and willpower to _not _do something stupid.

It was still there though. The pure hatred and desire to put an end to everything. But she knew she couldn't do it. Not right now. Not on a whim. But she promised herself, right then and there, that she would succeed where everyone else had not.

She _would _kill Tom Riddle.

**A/n: **I know! Awful chapter. Hopefully it will get better... hopefully. And yes this is going to be a slow romance as I mention earlier and when it does start to happen it will in no way be a nice and 'fluffy' romance as it's Tom Riddle AKA Voldemort. As it stands Hermione hates Riddle as she should and Tom is wary and in no way likes Hermione. He does find her interesting just not in a romancey way but because he knows she's powerful and hiding something.

Thanks for reading


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